


Week #1 (A Hand to Hold)

by too_wise_to_woo_peaceably



Series: RebelCaptainPrompts [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9902126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/too_wise_to_woo_peaceably/pseuds/too_wise_to_woo_peaceably
Summary: Less than 500 word one-shots based on prompts from rebelcaptainprompts.tumblr.com





	1. Outside (In)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the outside looking in, incongruous.

She’s not one to be first to admit that she was wrong about something, and anyway she’s hardly ever wrong, so it’s moot point. She’s a pilot, she trusts her instincts, and right now her stomach is swooping. But she might be wrong about this. _Might_. But, really, if some laserbrain tried to tell her that they’d seen Captain Cassian-motherfucking-Andor holding some girl’s hand – and no, not on a mission, or to sway a mark, but on base, in front of everyone – she’d have laughed her ass off, and then probably shot them for being a Imp spy; anyone who’s ever met–no, seen Andor would know within the first 30 seconds that he does not typically initiate or appreciate physical touching, much less in public.

And yet.

Here she is, standing like a dumb statue in the middle of the hanger, gaping at what is surely a hallucination.

 _Captain Cassian Andor_ is holding some woman’s hand.

There is no plausible explanation for this. There _isn’t_. She knows there isn’t. She’d know. She’d been fucking him for years– and yes, ok, it’s not like they’re lovers – or even really friends – but ~~she’d like to think~~ she understands her ‘to-scratch-an-itch’ well enough to know he’s not someone who looks for anything beyond the fucking.  She had asked, he’d rebuffed her coolly. And while the sex hadn’t been particularly frequent in the first place (he’s a spy, she’s a pilot – yeah, no) ever since then, she’d only had him once, nearly a year ago. He doesn’t get attached, nor does he allow others to get attached to him (except that damn droid….she’d joked about it once– he hadn’t been amused).

_And. Yet._

She can only gape.

* * *

He’d thought her a storm. A welcome reprieve to the monotony of shipping lanes and analytic, quiet subterfuge that make up his place on base. Often surrounded by ice-like logic, and droll droids, she’s a balmy breeze. She touched with a violent affection, when she deigned to touch at all. Bear hugs and kicked-shins, poked ribs and punched shoulders, sloppy temple kisses and bumping hips were all part and parcel. He has yet to be a true recipient of her fervor (for now it belonged solely to was what remained of Rogue One), but they are on their way to friendship – he aches for comradery. They smile, they talk. He wants mirth and bickering.

But hand-holding? Gentle, warm and firm. Reassuring, thoughtful, comforting. A visible coupling. Erso? The squall made soft, a tempered tempest? Laughable. And yet he’s not laughing. He remains, face inscrutable in the shadows, watching them.

And who has corralled this typically untethered inferno? A diamond man made flesh.

An epiphany, ‘we’re all touched starved here’. It is fucking or fighting, and yet she’s strikes the middle ground.


	2. hold my hand and we’re halfway there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn murmurs aloud when she reads.

Jyn murmurs aloud when she reads. **  
**

Usually it’s commentary when she’s reading debriefs: ‘well that was kriffing stupid’; ‘which is why you don’t _that_ , obviously’; ‘this isn’t a report, it’s a _manifesto_!’. One hand on the datapad, the other carding through Cassian’s hair or resting lightly on his breast-bone over his reassuring heartbeat – his hand cupping her,  her muted accent muttering white noise, and a warm lap upon  which he rests his head. Every so often she’ll ask him about such-and-such protocol or a vaguely referenced incident, and he’ll rumble a response, Festian-timbre heavy and thick with sleep. It wasn’t something he knew he needed until suddenly it was. How he got along without her for 26 years he’ll never quite remember.

When the reading is particularly data-rich, or scholastic-heavy she’s usually actually reading it word for word under her breath, ghosting her finger along the datapad; he supposes transposing letters and numbers is a little harder when she can hear herself. He also wonders sometimes if she waits to read those when she knows he’s a little more awake, so he can catch her hiccups – a muffled hum is enough to alert her. Later he’ll realize that in these instances he tends to hold her free hand and squeeze lightly in encouragement when her tongue stumbles.

He’ll puzzle out later that her reasons for doing this are threefold; first: she’s making him see that she let’s him in, she ‘tells’ him things about herself; second: small displays affection are somewhat easier for them both at this stage, and downtime is prime time; and third: an assurance that she is adjusting to her place in the Rebellion – that she means to stay.

He’d follow her to the edge of the ‘verse if she wanted, regardless. He knows she knows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi (too-wise-to-woo-peaceably.tumblr.com) and check out the prompts on rebelcaptainprompts.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, feel free to come say 'hi' at too-wise-to-woo-peaceably.tumblr.com


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